


My Fair Kingsman

by starhurst (yach1)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Amnesia, Angst, Dialogue-Only, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Harry Lives, Humor, JB POV, M/M, Merlin is Not Amused, Pining, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yach1/pseuds/starhurst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you're prepared to adapt, you can transform." A collection of Kingsman ficlets.  </p><p>1) The five times Harry gifted Eggsy, and the one time Eggsy gifted back<br/>2) In which Eggsy is in a medically induced coma, and JB gets all the treats and belly rubs<br/>3) Merlin and Eggsy discuss BBC's Sherlock (or alternatively, in which Eggsy believes Mycroft Holmes is a Kingsman.)<br/>4) He tries to remember, but it’s like watching waves washing away a message written in the sand. The "Harry has amnesia" ficlet no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keep Calm And Kingsman On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The five times Harry gifted Eggsy, and the one time Eggsy gifted back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we goooo. Hopefully I'll write more than just one or two of these lil ficlets, but we'll have to see.

The first time was of born out of necessity. When Eggsy arrived at the tailor shop for the first time, he came bruised and bloody, courtesy of Dean. Harry noticed Eggsy trying to clean the dried blood from his nose. “Here,” he said, pulling the handkerchief from his breast pocket. He offered it to the boy. Eggsy looked at the pristine, white cloth.

“Aw, nah. I’m fine, thanks. Don’t wanna ruin your stuff.”

“Please, I insist. Keep it. I can always get another. Besides, where we’re going, you will not want to make a first impression with blood on your face.”

Eggsy grinned and accepted the pocket square. “Or I’ll be a ‘big disgrace’?” he asked.

Harry laughed.

_*****_

The second time it happened, it was unintentional. Harry was walking through the tailor shop to the shuttle when a particularly handsome tie caught his eye. He was running late to a meeting with Arthur, but he could not help himself but to pause and take a closer look.  _Fine silk, cut along the bias, smooth to the touch._  The color was exceptional too, in shades of blues that would bring out the eyes in a certain young man.

He bought the tie without a second thought and wrapped it. Customarily, Kingsman recruits don’t receive their suits until after they finished training but, well . . .  let’s just say Harry held high hopes for Eggsy.

He decided to give the tie to Eggsy after the water test. No use giving it to him before then, it would just get ruined. He left a note on top of the gift.

_A Kingsman’s armor is never complete without a tie. Ties are also an incredibly useful tool for choking an assailant. I hope you will use it well. -HH_

It was only later when Harry realized he gotten Eggsy a near identical version of the tie he was wearing now.  

*****

The third time was an apology.

He should have known Eggsy wouldn't shoot the dog. He was too much like his father, too willing to sacrifice and prevent the ones they care for from getting hurt. Harry knew his words hurt Eggsy. His disappointment clouded his judgment. It wasn't Eggsy’s fault he couldn't shoot the dog; it was his own failure to see that Eggsy wouldn't. Despite the circumstances, Eggsy did well.  

He had gotten the onyx and diamond cuff-links before he left for the plane to Kentucky. The little box was left on the table of his office. The note read:  _I’m proud of you. – HH_

He planned on giving them to Eggsy when he got back except he was oh so rudely shot in the head by Valentine.

Harry wondered if Eggsy ever found them.

*****

The fourth time was also an apology.

Nothing could possibly make up for what Eggsy felt when Harry was shot in front of his eyes, and nothing could possibly make up for what Eggsy felt when he learned that he was still alive. When Eggsy arrived to the hospital room, his face was a myriad of emotions. Sheer pain, agony, relief, apprehension, and fear – it was a heartbreaking look that Harry would never forget.  

The fourth was an apology for making Eggsy feel like he was abandoned. A wristwatch seemed appropriate, a symbol of time. The ticking of a watch to match the beating of a heart. A reminder, that all people are mortal and eventually their time will come to an end.

But not for Harry, at least not now. It’s a bit sentimental, but Eggsy’s a smart kid. He’ll understand.

Plus, it has all functions of a normal watch with the added benefit of a taser.

 _I’m sorry. – HH_   

*****

The fifth time was, in a way, a joke.

The two were walking the streets of London enjoying a day off when Eggsy suddenly stopped and pointed at a store. He laughed. “Hah! I should get Merlin one of these.” He walked inside and picked up a poster that read, “ _Keep Calm and Believe in Sherlock Holmes_ ”. “Tho’ I don’t think he’d appreciate it much.”

Harry followed, confused. “Why would Merlin be interested in one of these?”

“That’s a story for another time.” Eggsy replied.

“Hm,” Harry said. He indicated to the many posters and mugs. “It’s curious that a catchphrase for strengthening moral during the war seen such a revival in this time.”

Eggsy walked deeper into the store, looking at all the things the shop had to offer. “I dunno, I guess we all need a boost in moral at any time, I suppose,” he replied. “Do you think they got one for poodles? I think Roxy would like one.”

Harry waited until Eggsy was out of earshot. He turned and asked the lady sitting behind the counter, “Excuse me, would you know if there is a way I could make one of these?”

******

The neatly wrapped present on his desk sent Harry on guard. His years as a Kingsman agent taught him to be cautious of the unknown as it could potentially be a threat. However, when Harry realized the scrawl on top of the note was none other than Eggsy’s, he relaxed. He opened the gift and held up a blue mug.

At that moment, his phone pinged: a text from Eggsy. Harry opened the message to find a photo of Eggsy drinking from a red mug that read, “ _Keep Calm and Love Harry Hart_ ”, a shit eating grin on his face.

Harry smiled and shook his head. He turned the mug over in his hands.

It read, “ _Keep Calm and Love Eggsy Unwin”._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (harry’s sixth gift is a ring)
> 
> This was inspired by that little story where Taron received a "keep calm and love colin firth" mug from Colin? 
> 
> Also, please disregard any typos, continuity errors, poopy grammar, and/or any other mistakes. I have the writing ability slightly above a loaf of whole wheat bread.


	2. Pugs Not Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eggsy is in a medically induced coma, and JB gets all the treats and belly rubs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think JB would be a dog that doesn't say much, but when he does it's usually something snarky. Maybe it started when Eggsy mistaken him for a bulldog, I dunno.

His boy, Eggsy, was supposed to come back from a mission today. So naturally, JB is confused when the older one shows up on the doorsteps instead.

JB knows when his boy goes on a mission the other agents will drop by the house to feed him, to walk him, to do all the other things humans are required to do. Sometimes it’s the female, Beaumont’s girl. JB likes Beaumont, but he is wary of his human. Of course, she’s the one who shot Beaumont without hesitation, but if Beaumont likes his girl then JB will like her too. Once in a blue moon, it’ll be the tall one, the one with no fur on top of his head. JB knows if he tilts his head at a certain angle and wags his tail at just the right speed, he will give in and shower JB with lots of treats. He always does.

But most of time, it’s the older one. The one that smells like fine wine and gun smoke and sometimes Eggsy. JB likes this one. They go on long walks together, and JB likes hiding the human’s shoes.  

 

JB enjoys the car ride with the windows down, the breeze blowing into his face, but he can’t help but notice the older man. He smells like hurt and sadness and pain.

 

JB doesn’t like the infirmary. It smells like medicine and sickness and pain. He remembers being here when he was a pup, visiting the bedside of the older one walking him now. Oh, how times have changed.

 

JB sniffs the boy. His ears perk up when he hears the older one talk to a doctor. _Internal bleeding,_ they said. _Head injury. Medically induced coma._  

JB snorts. He doesn’t need to be told what was wrong with the boy. Just sniff him. He _obviously_ smells off. Honestly, how do humans live with such fucking weak noses?

He moves closer to Eggsy and licks his face. His boy will be okay, JB will make sure of it.

 

If the nurses think he’s going to budge from the boy’s bed, they’ve got another thing coming.

 

Thankfully, the tall one arrives and tells the nurses to leave him alone. Yeah, that’s right. Leave! He enters the room and looks at Eggsy with a sigh before tapping away on the strange flat device. He smells busy and stressed and concerned. He notices JB sitting at the foot of the bed.

“JB,” He said leaning forward to scratch him behind the ears. “Your boy gave us quite a scare earlier, but we think he’ll be fine.”

JB knows. He didn’t train his boy for nothing.

“You’ve been waiting all week for Eggsy, haven’t you? Sorry JB, but you’re going to have to wait a bit longer.” The tall one tosses JB a treat.

Where did he even get that? No matter. Treats.

 

Beaumont’s girl comes in a little after the tall one leaves. To his disappointment, she didn’t bring Beaumont.

She notices JB sitting on the bed. “Hey JB,” she says taking a seat in the bedside chair. She leans over to pet him down the back. Despite their weak noses, humans are quite good at petting. He lets her pet him more. He’s doing her a favor really. She smells guilty and worried and unhappy. He thinks it wasn’t her fault.

He hops off the bed and into her lap. Roxy gathers and cuddles JB, his short little hairs getting all over her immaculate suit.

 

The next time the girl visits (her name is Roxy, said Beaumont trailing in tow), she brings him treats which JB gladly accepts. Watching over the boy is hard work, but JB can tell he’s getting better. He can smell it.

 

The older one visits the most often, during visitation hours and after hours when he thinks no one is looking.

He sits by the bed and opens a book. He still smells like hurt and sadness and pain. JB sidles closer to the man and lets him rub his belly as he reads the book aloud. His soft voice lures JB to sleep.

 

JB wakes to find the older man rising up. He watches as the older man strokes back the hair of his human, his hand lingering for a moment. He pets JB before he leaves, shutting the door behind him. JB hops off the bed onto the chair and curls up into the still warm spot. Might as well make use of the warmth. 

His boy sat by the bedside when the older human was in a coma, and he did the same. Why must humans show such affection when one of them isn’t awake?  Humans are so complicated.

 

Eggsy wakes on a sunny morning. About time, JB thinks, his tail wagging. It’s been fucking ages. Your human missed you, the girl missed you, and the tall one missed you. I missed you.

Eggsy turns to JB.

“JB.  . . Why d’you look so much fatter?”

Oh, you fucking tosser. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Eggsy did ask if JB would get bigger (pugs tend to gain weight easily). He did. Don’t worry JB, there’s lots more of you to love now.


	3. But He Has an Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Eggsy discuss BBC's Sherlock  
> Or alternatively  
> In which Eggsy believes Mycroft Holmes is a Kingsman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to start coming up with better titles and summaries.

“So you’re telling me that there’s not a single guy named ‘Mycroft’ in the entire agency?”

“Yes, for god’s sakes.”

“But could he be based off some truth?”

“Eggsy, Mycroft Holmes is a _fictional_ government official.  The Kingsman agents are an independent international group of – “

“Super-secret spies who save the world. Yeah, I get that – I’m _in_ it. But he has an _umbrella_ , and he wears a _suit_. And he’s really secretive of what he does in the British government!”

“Just because he wears a suit and has an umbrella does not qualify him to be a Kingsman. And we’re not the British government. We don’t even _work_ for the government.”

“Don’t you think his character is _slightly_ based off what we do here?”

“Not in the slightest. That would be a severe breach of confidentiality.”

“But he does all the – wait, have you even seen the show?”

“Eggsy, we are not having this conversation right now. You are in _Siberia_ on a _mission_. Now take a left at the next corner, and a right after that. That’ll take you into the systems room.”

 “Got it. And I’m just havin’ a conversation with you, stop deflecting.”

“Ok, I watched Sherlock Homes, the one with Jeremy Brett.”

“Oh yeah, the guy was in ‘My Fair Lady’.”

“Yes, the _guy_ was also in ‘My Fair Lady’.”

 “Those were good too. But I mean, look at you. All tech-savvy and shit. You have got to have a season or two of new series in that tablet of yours.”

“A _season_ or two?”  

“Hey, they’re really short.”

 “What? Eggsy, no. The tablet isn’t for personal use. It’s for Kingsman business only.”

“Bullshit. I took a look at it when you weren’t looking.”

“You - what?”

“I’m surprised in your taste of music.”

“Please don’t touch my stuff.”

“Astonishing, really. Disco?”

“You cheeky little – “

“Hold on Mer – this guy is trying to murder me with this thing that looks like a lightsaber! Are you seeing this Merlin? Why don’t we have something like that?”

“We do have something like that. The pen you _stole_ from me yesterday was something like that. It was a prototype – there’s only one.”

“Siiickkk.” 

“I’ll need it back.”

 

 

“Are you related to Q?”

“Yes.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's supposed to have a Scottish accent here, I swear.


	4. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tries to remember, but it’s like watching waves washing away a message written in the sand, the tiny grains becoming lost in a sea of oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some angst. I always liked the idea of amnesia!harry.

“He’s here again,” Guinevere says, “Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

He contemplates for a moment, fingers tapping along the smooth white pages of the book before marking his place and setting it aside. A kind young woman named Roxy had given him the book. Apparently he knew her, back then, back before all this happened. Of all things considered, he’s pleased to know he can still read. Amnesia is a funny thing.

“No, bring him in please. I would like to speak with him.”

“Of course,” the nurse said, “I’ll be just a moment.”

He takes off his glasses and sighs. He was told his name was Harry Hart. He was found outside a church in Kentucky, the sole survivor of a massacre. He wondered if he was part of the hate group, but a tall, bald man assured him he was anything but. But then a dreadful thought entered his mind. He wondered if _he_ was the one who killed all those people. The man, Emrys, said nothing.

He couldn’t remember his name, his age, his friends and family, or anything of his past life. The one thing he is sure of, however, is the young man who comes to see him every day; the man who he catches glimpses of lurking, waiting, hesitating behind the window of his door. 

Who is this man? A friend? His son? A lover?

The young man comes through the door ushered by Guinevere. He approaches the bed, uncertain and cautious, as if he were a wild animal ready to bolt. He’s dressed in an immaculate suit, Oxfords, not Brogues. How he knew they were Oxfords were beyond him.

“Do I know you?” he asks. The boy hesitates before speaking in a sort of posh version of a chav-y accent.

“Uh, yeah, we knew each other,” the man began. “Not as long as you an’ uh Emrys though, but long enough yeah.”

Perhaps if he asks further.  “What were we?”

The man doesn’t reply. Another question then.

“What is your name?”

“Eggsy.”

 “I see,” he manages to reply, his throat closing in an uncomfortable manner. There was a hope, a wish, that if he knew this young man’s name, all the pieces would fall together painting a complete picture in his mind. 

 

He doesn’t sleep. If he were honest, he would say he’s too scared to sleep. He feels he’s been asleep for far too long. At times it still feels like he’s sleeping now, that he will be sleeping forever, that he will never wake up and remember.

When he does sleep he feels he’ll never wake up from his dreams.

No, not dreams. Nightmares, visions.

He falls into dreams of chaos, carnage, screams, and blood. Gunshots, explosions, and bodies. A massacre. He wrenches awake from a gunshot or an explosion, unable to comprehend what just happened. He lies in the darkness listening to the sound of his own uneven, gasping breath.

He tries to remember, but it’s like watching waves washing away a message written in the sand, the tiny grains becoming lost in a sea of oblivion.

This time he wasn’t awaken by an explosion, or the sound of a gunshot. He wakes in a church, in _the_ church. The pews empty, overturned. The floor littered with bodies. The walls painted with red. Slaughter. Death. The doors of the church open with a soft click. When he turns he sees Eggsy. What is he doing here?

The young man walks up to him. He reaches up and removes the glasses, stained with red. He had forgotten he was wearing glasses. Eggsy tucks the glasses in his breast pocket and turns to leave.

“Don’t go.” He says. He grabs at the young man’s sleeve, anxious to stop Eggsy before he leaves. Pain flares up in his head wound, and he brings his hand back up. Too painful to be real, the sleeve too solid to be a dream.

_A dream._

He opens his eyes and sees the worried face of Eggsy. Eyes, pools of green, so different from the sea of red. 

 

There’s a tremor in his hand. He had it since he woke up. It won’t stop shaking now and Eggsy sees that. He reaches out and puts his hand over his, steadying, easing. He confesses.

“I’ve been having dreams. I couldn’t remember them before I woke up, but recently I’ve been. . . remembering. These horrid dreams where I had a gun in my hand. And I shot . . . a woman? She was saying something to me, something not very nice, and something in me told me to shoot.” He hesitated. “And, um, I did. After that it was utter chaos and madness.”

 He smiles a sad smile. “It’s tough when you can’t remember your dreams, never mind your memories. And once you do, you don’t know what to make of it.”

“They weren’t nice people,” Eggsy murmurs.

“They were innocent.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He squeezes the young man’s hands. He needs to know. “Then promise me, Eggsy. Look me in the eye and promise me that I didn’t kill those people.”

Eggsy looks at him, eyes steady and unwavering. He squeezes back, hands firm and warm. “You didn’t kill those people.”

Harry searches his face for signs, for any lies, for any discrepancies and doesn’t know what to think when he doesn’t find any. He nods and looks down at their joined hands.

 

He’s not sure if he wants to remember if he did.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But we all know he kindasorta did. Poor Harry.


End file.
